He was sitting behind Corvus, kneeling with all of the vampires from the Château and they were watching Lucas with rapt attention. The newly finished temple rose into the night around him, the great pillars standing tall and proud, stark, bone white against the darkness, and my likeness loomed behind him. It was larger than life and made me feel like a fraud as the woman it depicted was powerful and wise and calm. I felt none of those things right now.
Lucas' voice cut through the night, sure and certain as he spoke the words he had written for me.
“Circe the enchantress, we invoke thee.
Daughter of the sun, goddess of illusion.
By the protecting light of the moon and the deathly shadow of the sun.
We invoke thee.”
I gasped, my blood singing through my veins as his words seemed to take life beneath my skin. I knew that this prayer was being said throughout the family, throughout France and beyond, thousands of vampires echoing their power, repeating and strengthening as the force of them wrapped around me.
Lucas raised his arms as he continued, and I saw the gleaming blade in his hand, the shallow, white marble bowl on the altar. Decimus glanced down at the blade in his own hand, the bowl placed on the floor in front of his bended knees. Lucas' voice rose along with the hairs on the back of my neck and an electric sensation ran through the vampires in anticipation as they waited for the blood to spill.
“Accept this sacrifice, Circe, living blood from the dead, an offering from your devoted servants.
Great goddess.
We are yours to command.”
He drew the blade across his wrist, and crimson blood splashed against the white marble. The movement was echoed throughout the family, and I closed my eyes, returning to my own mind.
The rush of power brought me to my knees. I was electrified, aflame, more than alive.
I lurched forward, bracing my weight on my arms, and began to laugh as the high it brought glittered through me. I was vibrant, fizzing like the bubbles in a shaken bottle of Champagne, ready to burst at the slightest touch. I waited for the sensation to dissipate but it rolled on and on. I wanted to run for the joy of it, scream with laughter and make love with wanton abandon.
The ceremony must have been finished by the time I finally hauled in a shuddering breath, trying to get my giddy libido in hand.
“Quite a rush I imagine?”
I looked up to see Corvus staring down at me, amusement and curiosity in his eyes.
“You have no idea,” I said, trying hard not to laugh despite the indignity of my position. He was standing with his hands in his pockets, a fitted black T-shirt highlighting the pallor of his skin. My eyes drifted over his chest, admiring the way the material clung to the muscle beneath. His arms were heavy with muscle, and I could smell the power of the blood beneath his skin. He was the true Master. Lucas was simply an echo of his power. My mouth watered. God I wanted that. I wanted to taste him, so badly. I swallowed hard, overwhelmed by my need for him. With what was left of my self control I tried to get a grip on my emotions, forcing myself not to reach for him, but from the look in Corvus' eyes it was way too late.
His eyes were black, his attention focused on me alone. With a sudden movement he reached down and grasped me around the waist, hauling me to my feet. He held on to me, and I was only too aware of his arms around me, his body touching mine, his lips so tantalisingly close.
“You want me.” It was as much an accusation as an observation and there seemed little point in denying it. He'd know I was lying. It would make me look weaker than if I admitted the truth of it.
Instead I ran my hand over his chest and watched his reaction. “Yes,” I said. “Almost as much as you want me.”
“Almost,” he repeated, mockery in his voice.
He pushed me, forcing me back until I was braced against the tree trunk, and I let him. We both knew I allowed it. Even if he'd had the power of being Master he couldn't have forced me in that moment. I was high, intoxicated with the power of the blood sacrifice burning beneath my veins, firing my desires. I let him because I wanted to, and he knew it.
His hand went to the back of my neck, grasping, his fingers hard against my skin, and I looked up at him. His eyes were angry but there was desire there too, hot and needy and it infuriated him. He hated that he wanted me so badly. In a moment of clarity I understood it. He had no control over his own history, his memories wiped from his mind. He had little control over his life with guards dogging his every step and rules that he didn't see the point of. The fact that he reacted so strongly to me just made him feel more out of control. It made him feel weak. I wished I could make him understand that the two of us together were stronger than anything. Neither the gods nor time could come between us, because sooner or later we would be drawn together again. For better or for worse.
His mouth came crashing down on mine, possessive and harsh, and I coiled around him, demanding more. I was tired of holding back, tired of not being able to touch him. His teeth caught my lip and the copper tang of my own blood filled my mouth. His breath came in a rush against me.
“Gods, the taste of you.” He sounded shaken, afraid of the strength of his desire, and I felt him move away.
That wasn't going to happen. I pulled his mouth back to mine, my hands moving over him, remembering the feel of him like our history was written in Braille upon his skin, but he paused again, drawing back and looking at me. His eyes were guarded, questioning.
I reached up and touched his mouth, my fingers trailing across his lips.
“I have missed this,” I said. “I have missed you.”
“We were lovers then?” he asked, and I had to hold back the smile at the fierce look in his eyes. He wanted me to believe the idea angered him, but the soft way his fingers were stroking the back of my neck gave more away than he realised.
“You knew that.”
He snorted. “I know nothing. I remember nothing.”
“That's not true.”
He gave me a sharp look, and I held his gaze. He wasn't a fool. He'd know I had people watching him, reporting back to me.
“Tell me what you remember.”
“No.” He moved, grabbing my arms and holding them up by the wrists, pinning me to the tree. I raised one eyebrow at him.
“I could make you,” I said, my tone light.
I felt my skin tingle as his power washed over me, testing me. He wanted to know how strong I really was, but he'd chosen the wrong moment for that.
“Then make me,” he snapped, and he was truly angry now, the heat of it stinging my skin.
I reached up on tip toe and leaned forward, touching my lips against his. It was barely more than a brush of skin against skin, but his eyes closed, his breath an uneven flicker against my mouth. I pressed my lips a little harder. “Tell me,” I whispered against his lips. “Please, Corvus.”
I could feel his reluctance, the desire to defy me bound inextricably to a desire to please me that he simply didn't understand.
“I ...” he began and then opened his eyes, scowling. “I just see images. A sword in my hand, Roman armour. I was a soldier,” There was a question in his eyes, though he didn't voice it, as though he was still unsure but afraid to ask.
I simply nodded. “Yes.”
He sighed, closing his eyes. “I die in a fight against my own kind. I'm killing them, killing all of them ... I'm ... so angry, so alone. I don't care what happens to me, I want to die and ...” He let me go and moved away from me with a sudden movement, his hand covering his chest. “There is pain, such pain ...” He turned to look back at me. “It hurts, so badly ... my heart.”
I gasped, tears pricking at my eyes. I knew he wasn't using it as a term of endearment, the loving phrase he had always used to tell me he loved me, but I had longed so badly to hear those words on his lips that it barely mattered for the effect it had on me.
He looked at me curiously, and I wondered what he could understand out of the flurry
of emotions that were escaping my defences.
“What?” he asked, his voice raw. “What do you know of this?”
My throat ached. I wanted to tell him what it meant. Tell him that he was killing the men who had taken me from him. That he wanted to die because I was gone from his life. But if I told him I would never know if he was truly remembering me or if he was just telling me what I wanted to hear. I forced myself to remember the cold, calculating look I had seen in his eyes. I couldn't trust him no matter how much I wanted to. I could tell him we had loved each other for thousands of years, and he would believe me, but he wouldn't feel it. He might use that knowledge against me though, to manipulate me. I knew that he had it in him. He needed to understand what we were to each other from his own heart and for that he had to come to it in his own time. No matter how it hurt.
“I can't tell you, Corvus.” I knew he could see the tears in my eyes, and I didn't try to hide them. “I want to, so much, but you have to remember for yourself.”
He shouted in fury and suddenly he was in front of me, his hand around my throat.
“Tell me!” he roared. “Tell me who I am - who you are!”
His rage seared my skin but I didn't flinch. He was afraid as much as he was angry, and he was just trying to frighten me.
I reached up and stroked his cheek. “No.” I said, hoping he could hear the regret in my voice. “I'm so sorry but no.”
For a moment his hand tightened around my neck, his blue eyes so cold, so angry. Abruptly he let me go and turned away.
“What the hell is going on here?”
I turned to see Lucas staring at Corvus with an expression of utter fury.
“It's alright, Lucas.”
“The fuck it is,” he snarled, stalking up to Corvus and grabbing hold of his shirt. “Lay a finger on her again, and I swear to the gods it will be the last thing you ever do.”
Corvus smacked his hand away and pushed him, and I reacted before they could, sending a binding spell smashing against them both. It only held them for a second, but it was long enough for me to get between them.
“You will stop this!” It was a command and they both stood still, glaring at each other with murder in their eyes. “Corvus go, now.” His gaze fell from Lucas to mine but the cold fury in them didn't change. My heart stuttered a little under that hard gaze, but then he was gone. I let out a breath.
“Did he hurt you?” There was fear in Lucas' voice and his hands went to my neck, his touch tender and concerned where Corvus' had been violent.
I shook my head. “I'm fine,” I said, giving him a shaky smile and wondering if he knew just how far from the truth that was.
“Liar,” he said softly, an affectionate expression in his eyes.
I laughed. He knew me too well. He put his arms around me, pulling me in to hold me, and it would have been the easiest thing in the world to let him. I badly wanted to let his contact take away the stress and unhappiness, but I pulled back.
“I have to find Cain,” I said, sounding apologetic. “I need to speak to him.”
I tried not to notice the hurt in his eyes, but I couldn't let him think there would ever be more than this between us. It wasn't fair on him.
I turned and left him alone with guilt in my bruised heart on top of everything else and went to Cain's room, but he wasn't there. He wasn't anywhere to be found in the Château or the gardens or any of the outbuildings. Cain had gone.
Chapter 31
It was nearly three weeks since Cain had disappeared, and we hadn't heard a word from him since. I clung to the promise he'd made me that he would stay until I was safe. I had to believe he was doing whatever it was to turn Sariel's feather into a weapon. I prayed inwardly that there would be no need for him to do any more blood magic or deals with his soul to achieve whatever it was he needed. He clearly didn't have enough left to bargain with. Currently, and predictably, I had problems of my own to deal with.
I walked outside to get some air. Lucas was waiting to see me in the office. There had been a scroll delivered from the Senate during the first moments of darkness and Lucas had asked for me to go directly to the study. Somehow his urgency didn't make me think there was good news waiting for me. I figured another five minutes wouldn't make the news any less depressing and took a moment to look up at the night sky.
It was fine and clear, warm with a cool breeze stirring the leaves and making the night hunters pause and scent the air, searching for their quarry.
I turned to find Corvus standing behind me. I wasn't surprised. He sought me out most nights. He seemed infuriated by his need to be with me, if resigned to it. Our encounters generally ended in a row of some kind, and he hadn't shown any sign of intending to kiss me again. He leaned back against the wall of the Château, a glowering and unhappy presence. He actually didn't get close to me at all anymore but always stayed a safe distance away, as though afraid temptation might overrule good judgement if he got too close.
I turned and looked at him. There was a little colour to his complexion - he'd fed recently. I hadn't sat in on the last two occasions, leaving Lucas to make the arrangements. I hadn't asked but it appeared no one had died. It was all I could bear to know.
“A beautiful night,” I said, keeping my tone light and wondering if we could manage a whole conversation without him wanting to kill me.
He shrugged, scowling, and I sighed. It would appear not. I turned to go back inside as there seemed little point in staying with him glowering at me. I may as well go and face the music, whatever it was.
“Where are you going?” he demanded.
I turned in surprise. “Corvus, much as your scintillating conversation is hard to tear myself away from, I have work to do.” I went to walk away again but he stopped me.
“Wait.” His voice was a little uncertain this time, and I waited for him to speak again. “There's a lake, down there.” He pointed down past the meadow, and I kept my face neutral. That was beyond the perimeter of the wards I'd laid. He couldn't go that far.
“You remember it?” I asked.
He shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I can smell the water,” he admitted. “I'd like to see it.”
I knew Corvus had always loved the lake and had even braved the chilly water during the summer months despite his hatred for being cold. I remembered watching him dive in once, the whiteness of his powerful body piercing the dark surface of the lake and disappearing with little more than a ripple.
“It's beyond the ward,” I replied. I didn't have the time to extend it all the way down there. It would take hours.
“I know that but ... you could come with me. Command me to stay at your side. There's no risk in that.”
He looked a little uncomfortable, and I swallowed hard as I realised ... He was asking me to go for a walk with him. I remembered Lucas and bit my lip before making my decision.
“OK, let's go.”
I led the way down the familiar route as the frogs and cicada's shouted their cheerful night time chorus around us. The long grass of the meadow swished around our legs as we walked, and I stole a glance back at him, feeling my heart ache at the sight of him retreading his own steps with no knowledge or understanding of what it meant to me. Typically, having taken my eyes off the path for a bare second I put my foot in a hole and stumbled. He was beside me, his arm around my waist to steady me and amusement in his eyes.
“You're remarkably clumsy for a goddess,” he observed.
I snorted, praying I could keep my heart from thudding out of my chest. “You have no idea,” I said, laughing. “You were always cross with me for ...” I stopped abruptly, realising what I was saying.
“I was cross with you? That at least is familiar,” he said with a wry smile. “Why?”
I swallowed, looking up at him, feeling the weight of his arm around me. My mouth was dry. “You were always afraid I would hurt myself,” I said in the end. That much information couldn't cause any harm, could it?
> “I was afraid ... for you?” There was scepticism in his voice, and I tried to push away the ache it produced, but there was a lump in my throat.
I couldn't answer so I just nodded, moving out of the reach of his arms and walking on until we were standing in front of the glassy black surface of the lake. I stood on the little jetty and felt his presence behind me. I felt his hands on my hips, and then his arms slid around my waist and pulled me against him. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to remember - to believe this would be mine again, one day.
“We used to come here often,” he said. “You and I, alone.”
I felt my heart lurch with sorrow. Corvus and I had come here, but not often. Our short time together in this lifetime had left little opportunity for such romantic moments.
I turned in his arms and looked up at him. His expression was soft, but I didn't buy it. He wasn't remembering, he was guessing, and he was doing it to find a way to manipulate me. I pushed his arms away and stepped back.
“Go back to the Château, Corvus.” It was a cold, hard command, and he couldn't disobey me. There was surprise and something else in his eyes that I was too heartsick to contemplate. Wearily I turned and made my way back to find out what it was Lucas needed me for.
***
I looked down past the jumbled collection of historical and legal texts spread out in front of me to the elaborately decorated scroll that Lucas held up. It was a formal notification of the intention to visit the Albinus family and investigate certain ‘irregularities’ that had come to the sender's attention. Apparently email was a foreign concept. Hardly surprising, I supposed, as the person who'd penned it had probably learned to write on wax tablets. The red wax seal that had held it shut had thrown Lucas into an uncharacteristic panic, and I'd spent the last ten minutes trying to get some sense out of him.
The Fires of Tartarus Page 24